


Home

by stargarnet



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 21:58:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/931528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stargarnet/pseuds/stargarnet





	Home

How many times had I thought about this? How many times had I lain in bed, trying to sleep only to be assaulted with imaginings of how it might feel to taste those lips, and mouth and tongue? How many times had I crushed my pillow to my body wishing it had a heartbeat and arms to hold me back? How many times?! And here I am, wanting, wishing and imagining in real time, with the object of my affection and frustration before me.

Here in front of me is that mouth, smiling at me gently. Fine hair being moved by the breeze off the river we sit next to. Warm blue eyes searching my face, tinged with both amusement and concern. I have no idea what is going on in the talented mind behind the face I adore. I don't know what to do!

Do I lean in? Do I duck away, breaking the tension that has formed between us? Is there tension? Am I imagining that? If I make some sort of movement towards a greater intimacy than we share as friends and I have got this completely arse around, do I lose that friendship? Oh for goodness sake! And, why would he want me anyway? I am just me, nothing special. Certainly not remotely sexy or cool, not classically attractive. I am not what they have had in the past, or what one might expect for them in the future. In his future I see supermodels with legs up to their armpits and no inhibitions, not some skinny, shy, pale skinned bloke with incongruent features and big ears. The self esteem I attach to my body image and how I look in general has more dips and turns than the insanest of roller coasters.

I know I must be screwing my face up particularly when I think of my latest and perhaps greatest fear. What if I really suck at kissing? What if I completely cock that up? Not only do I lose a friend but also they think that I am completely incompetent as a lover. Ugh! I can now hear my blood slamming in my ears, my anxiety is rising so much. I take a deep breath.

"Hey," a soft but clear voice interrupts my mental self destruction. I look down at the hand moving over the picnic blanket we are sitting on, moving towards my thigh. "You think too much, you know that, right?" I am asked. My head drops and I sigh as the hand squeezes gently at the flesh just above my knee. That feels so nice. I nod in response to the question. That physical connection brings me back to the here and now, the hand on my thigh and the slow circles of a thumb over the fabric of my jeans. I look up hesitantly, and realise that face is closer now, another hand reaching up and pushing my hair back from my face. Fingers slide over my ear as they cup the side of my face. I lean into the hand, strong and a little rough, but oh so gentle. My eyelids flutter closed as I inhale the familiar scent of that skin. I am comforted and grounded.

I hear an,"Oh," said on a sigh as I nuzzle the hand and place a kiss to the palm. I rest my cheek in it again. I cannot open my eyes. I am too frightened this will end. Ha! More fear. Bit of a theme really. I swallow hard trying to push the fear away. More of my unruly hair is pushed away from the other side of my face, finger tips lightly following the line from my temple, down my cheekbone to my lips.

I feel a brush of fingers, then a brush of lips. I gasp at the sensation, I cannot help it. I open my eyes to the irises I dream of every night. A frown has settled between the brows. I try to smile, hoping I look encouraging and good enough to kiss again. A broad smile which crinkles the fine skin around eyes and mouth is my reward. And a kiss.

This kiss is warmth and love, honesty and trust, want and gift. This kiss reminds me of who I am, not what I am and how much that matters to the person holding my face and my waist. I hope I am successfully reminding the person who owns the blonde hair I have threaded my fingers through and the hip I hold on to firmly that this is all that matters to me also. If the soft moans vibrating through that fine neck are any indication, I may be succeeding.

We pull away reluctantly but needing breath, our foreheads resting against each other. Shallow but lingering kisses punctuate our breathing. Murmured words of affection, love, gratitude, joy and a small amount of disbelief are whispered against sensitive skin, making us both shiver and sigh. Pulling away slightly, a gaze lingers over my face, following the fingers that are tracing over my jaw and neck, stopping at my collarbone. The face falls to that spot, kissing and lathing it. I tilt my head to snuggle into the head in the crook of my neck and attempt to control the volume of my moans.

The mouth stops on a sigh, but says quite clearly, "Let's go home."

"Whose home?" I ask, burying my face in soft hair.

"Wherever you are, I am home," is the response as arms tighten around me.


End file.
